Your Pain Deserves to Be Honored

              The anxiety started with my 30^th birthday trip to Italy and Greece. I had planned this trip down to the last day. I had been apprehensive about turning 30, it seemed to be a marker of everything that I haven’t yet achieved in my life. This trip was my way of taking control of my narrative by bringing in the new decade under my terms. In the end of February when Coronavirus emerged in Italy I began anxiously researching worldwide spread of Coronavirus on the internet. 

            It’s hard to believe that was only a month ago that the idea of having to cancel my trip was my biggest worry. I completely underestimated how much this disease was going to ravage the world. The death toll goes up daily, and we are warned that the worst of it is yet to come. Several people have lost their jobs, and I worry about the long-term health consequences that this massive unemployment will have. 

             All of this pain that people are experiencing makes my worries seem so minor in comparison. In mid-March as COVID 19 began to ravage the United States I made a point of making daily gratitude lists. However much I had to be thankful for I couldn’t help but feel miserable. 

            The weekend of March 14^th as many American began to terms with the new reality, bars were still open across the United States but many people were dissuaded from going out to bars. I’m embarrassed to say that I was resistant to social distancing. It felt like the angel and devil were fighting inside of me. My intellectual part understood the importance of flattening the curve. However, my emotional part of myself was fighting to go out into the world, seeking solace by anything resembling a “normal” weekend. 

            When 9/11 happened, I was 11 years old, growing up in the New York City area made fear woven into my coming of age. The media sensationalized the fear from that Tuesday morning for years later. I had to teach myself from a young age to have some skepticism of the media’s characterizations of threats. I developed a strange comfort from knowing that death could come to me at any time, I was more likely to die by walking down the street and be hit by a car then being a victim of a terror attack when riding the subway, or in some high tourist location. 

            That doesn’t mean that I haven’t been afraid. When I was 15, the fall after the London terror attacks, my mom started letting me take the train into Brooklyn to hang out with my childhood best friend from when I lived there. One of the first times the I took the Long Island Railroad into New York City, we were pulling into the tunnel and the train stopped. It would move again intermittently but making loud noises in the process. My heart started pounding fast, suddenly I did not feel like an independent woman taking the train in. I wanted reassurance, I turned around to the passenger behind me and asked them if everything was ok. After the humored me by comforting me we pulled into the station. My anxiety about being in tunnels did not disappear but I lived and took the train in spite of it. Some of my greatest joys have been a byproduct of living despite the fear.

            It took me a few weeks to understand and have compassion for the part of myself that was initially resisting social distancing. Now I understand that I felt like I was giving into a fear of the world that I’ve been fighting back against my entire adolescent and adult life. 

In the first few days of this pandemic I obsessively read tweets and articles that chastised people for violating social distancing, against my therapist’s advice. I used all those articles to criticize myself. 

Laura you are selfish for caring more about Sunday brunch then the health of others. Laura you have nothing to complain about others have it so much worse then you. Laura you a week for not being able to manage this social distancing.

 Scott Berinato wrote on March 23^rd 2020, The Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief.[1]He outlined the stages of grief that Elizabeth Kubler Ross outlines. As I read his words I found myself dissolving into tears of relief. I finally was able to look at how I was feeling with compassion, I was grieving the loss of control I felt about my plans, grieving the time that I was missing with close friends. I feel like a light inside of me has burnt out. Being able to acknowledge that grief gave me the first sense of comfort that I had felt in weeks. 

When social distancing first started I tried to find things to fill by days with, such as reading, or cleaning. However, I found myself not having the energy to do any of this. It’s been a struggle to get out of bed. I looked up things up that will help people manage mental health symptoms during social distancing. None of that worked. What finally helped me feel better was making space for the sadness that I felt. Yes, my pain might not be as much as what others are experiencing but it is still real. I miss touch, I miss crowds, I miss my co-workers cracking up during staff meetings. I miss community. All of that pain is real. No matter what pain you may be experiencing that is real and it deserves to be honored and comforted. 

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·      [1]

That Discomfort You're Feeling Is Grief

Scott Berinato - https://hbr.org/2020/03/that-discomfort-youre-feeling-is-grief